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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25453516">and while i'm in this body, i want somebody to want</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/atat/pseuds/atat'>atat</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Killing Eve (TV 2018)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>But also, But softly, Crying, Dirty Talk, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, Fluctuating POV, Lesbians, Love, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Porn with Feelings, Praise Kink, Scar touching, Smut, Soft Villanelle | Oksana Astankova, TOP EVE RIGHTS, Villanelle has issues and i try desperately to work through some of them, almost self-fisting, and crying, and then fucking some more, kind of filthy, obviously, presidential alert: the girls are fucking, the l word (not the show), undefined point of time post bridge, villanelle's soft. eve's soft. we're all soft</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 09:20:58</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>6,297</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25453516</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/atat/pseuds/atat</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>She feels her face being searched, a need to understand. Soft looks that didn’t have a place in this, before. She wishes, for a moment, that she could see more than what the faint light of the city behind the window allows, wants to look. The color of her eyes, the delicate bridge of her nose, her cupid’s bow atop full pink lips. Wants, not for the first time, to be inside of the other woman’s mind, turn it over and see, and touch.</p><p>“It feels good, doesn’t it. Being able to look.” It’s not phrased as a question, but as a statement of clear agreement between them. Even ground for them to step over. A bridge. </p><p> </p><p>  <em>"Do you like watching her, or do you like being watched?"</em></p><p> </p><p>“Yes.”</p><p>Villanelle smiles wider. Brings her hands above her head and stretches, a grunt and a long bare throat. She doesn’t need to ask what Eve was thinking about. She knows it’s her. Always her.</p><p>or</p><p>Eve thinks. Villanelle cries. They reconcile stuff.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Eve Polastri/Villanelle | Oksana Astankova</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>41</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>253</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>and while i'm in this body, i want somebody to want</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>this work brought to you by: the hurricane that left my town without electricity for a week, fiona apple's new album on repeat and unresolved issues. also inspired by azra's amazing fucking artwork, @azahuhh on twitter. highly recommend checking it out before/while reading this!! thanks for feeding us girl. hope y'all like reading this as much as i liked writing it. </p><p>fic title from I Want You To Love Me by the aforementioned bitch artist in question herself. (not azra. fiona. lmao)</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It’s after the bridge. After, after, after everything. After they’ve stopped running. From some things, more than others. The future, which always seemed uncertain, dangerous, now sits on their hands, a pliable and malleable thing, finally in their own control. Sort of. As much as is possible. Eve’s words, still echoing in both their minds, an admission; <em>“When I try and think of my future, I just… See your face, over and over again.”</em> And there it is, her face. In front of her, <em> after.</em> She still doesn’t know what changed so drastically in the woman in front of her, what made her want to stop running from Eve. From herself. But she finds she can wait. She can wait for her to open up, for her to lay bare and still for consideration. Stood motionless, and present. Alone, unguarded, honest and true. Eve wants. She aches with it. Wants to know her inside and out, has wanted, will want. Knows she will never be bored again, will be surprised every time, at every detail and every small thing that Villanelle, that Oksana, feels like giving. </p><p>It was never this patient, before. It was always rough, tense, twisted and intense, their feelings bubbling over, a tidal wave, a hurricane, sweeping every thing in Eve’s life apart until there was nothing left. She never paid much mind at the stupid people who relish these experiences, so much carnage and death and them, stood in the middle of it, chasing it. Storm chasers, adrenaline junkies. She thinks she understands better than anyone, now. How she wanted her life to seem unrecognizable in the wreckage, opening up space for Villanelle. For Eve, even. A bullet in the back, pushing and tearing through, violent and passionate. A knife in the gut, twisting, in and out until the full weight of the <em>roughness</em> of it crashes into them. And the regret that came right after.</p><p>She knows what brought her to that moment. The anger, the exasperation, the tiredness. The need to wipe the smirk off her beautiful, bruised face, that continued to whisper at her, months after in her dreams. <em>“You can’t.”</em>  Just to prove her wrong, just to prove that yes, she can. They’re cut from the same cloth. She knows, what used to drive them before. She is not so sure of the now, but how she longs to discover it anew. Maybe it was always the same. Only now with less barriers, interruptions. More recognition.</p><p>They find they can’t stop it, anymore. Don’t want to. Have nothing else to hold them back. Eve knows that’s true, for both of them, even if she can’t know specifics just yet. She knows it in the way Villanelle looks at her, after turning back- just to see Eve had done the same. It’s all about choices.</p><p>She feels a stir in the bed beside her, Villanelle probably not so much asleep anymore. They are in some hotel, relishing just the simpleness of sleeping beside each other. The chase and the fever dream nights catching up to a resolve of soft intimacy. </p><p>“Your brain is loud.” Villanelle mutters behind a sleepy smile, not opening her eyes.</p><p>Eve is still turned towards her, probably staring for too long than what is considered normal or usual. Thank God there is nothing normal or usual about them.</p><p>“Sorry.” </p><p>“Don’t be. I like it.” </p><p>Villanelle finally opens her eyes, looks at her.</p><p>She feels her face being searched, a need to understand. Soft looks that didn’t have a place in this, before. She wishes, for a moment, that she could see more than what the faint light of the city behind the window allows, wants to look. The color of her eyes, the delicate bridge of her nose, her cupid’s bow atop full pink lips. Wants, not for the first time, to be inside of the other woman’s mind, turn it over and see, and touch.</p><p>“It feels good, doesn’t it. Being able to look.” It’s not phrased as a question, but as a statement of clear agreement between them. Even ground for them to step over. A bridge. </p><p>
  <em>“Do you like watching her, or do you like being watched?”</em>
</p><p>“Yes.”</p><p>Villanelle smiles wider. Brings her hands above her head and stretches, a grunt and a long bare throat. She doesn’t need to ask what Eve was thinking about. She knows it’s her. Always her.</p><p>
  <em>“Do you ever think about the past?” “All the time. It’s all I think about.”</em>
</p><p>“I don’t know if I want to think so much about the past anymore.” Eve whispers.</p><p>Not when the future, the present, is so much more inviting. Their troubles and their messes are far from over, Eve knows, she’d be stupid not to. But it feels more manageable now, with this peace they’ve found. Wonder if it’ll be totally gone by the morning, hopes it won’t. Knows it won’t.</p><p>“I feel like we can do anything now. You make me feel like I found myself after a long time trying to not see myself, to not feel what I feel.”</p><p>“That is a very flattering statement to hear in the middle of the night, lying in bed with a previously straight woman, you know.” Her smile turns mischievous. Cheeky. </p><p>“Shut up. God, you’re such a brat.” She almost hates how fond it comes out. Realizes she has no need to mask these things now.</p><p>A brief silence. The twinkle of mirth on Villanelle’s eyes visible, now.</p><p>“Do you want to see it?” Villanelle bites her lower lip. She sounds hesitant. As if Eve could ever refuse. Her eyes try not to track the movement too obviously, knowing it’s useless. A reflex.</p><p>“Yeah.” Eve breathes out in response.</p><p>And then Villanelle is lifting her own shirt by the hem, lazily, letting the soft, silky material of it pool just over her stomach. The dim light in the room is just enough for her to make out the thin pale line just above her left hip, an imprint of Eve’s violence. There, on her skin, forever. Her hand reaches out, almost with its own mind, touches her with one, and then more fingers, tracing over it lightly. Feels the strong muscles of her abdomen under it tense. A shiver barely contained.</p><p>“Pretty.”</p><p>Villanelle lets out a breath, relaxing. She thinks she can almost feel the other woman becoming warmer. It rolls off her in waves. </p><p>“You did that.” Villanelle says, a little reverently.</p><p>Somewhere in her mind, Eve finds it weird that they haven’t really touched yet. Besides public buses and forehead slams, a slow dance, and a brief, open-eyed, startled kiss. And a knife to the stomach. Nothing normal or usual, indeed. </p><p>She lets her hand press against the smooth skin, not hesitant anymore. Curves it around a hip. Holds it there. Wants to touch everywhere, drag her hands up and down until she knows every nook and cranny, but still won’t move. Villanelle takes hold of her wrist. </p><p>“You don’t have to just look. But- I want to see you, too.” </p><p>With one hand still on Eve’s wrist, she moves, reaches over her. Lights up the space with the yellow of the bedside lamp on their slightly shitty room with her other. </p><p>Villanelle’s thighs have moved to straddle one of Eve’s own now, looking down from where she’s perched.</p><p>Eve takes a moment to fully look at her, her honey-blonde hair loose, slightly tangled from sleep. Some of it falls down her back, while some tendrils of it drape over her shoulders, framing her face. Can finally see the color in her eyes. Yearns to see more, to see everything.</p><p>Eve moves her hand still over her scar, up, catching the material of her shirt. Waits for Villanelle to slide her arms out of it, throws it down on the floor next to the bed. </p><p>She should’ve known there was no place for anything like uneasiness in this room, not after everything, but it still makes her proud, although not surprised, to see how Villanelle takes in the attention, not turning away from it the slightest bit, how it makes her glow further, even. The utter courage of showing herself, bare, vulnerable. She lifts her chin up, defiant, neck on display, a challenge and a submission all the same.</p><p>Her perky breasts are illuminated by the light, and Eve notes the pebbled nipples, the same color of her mouth, has no presence of mind to be embarrassed at how her own mouth positively waters at the sight. </p><p>“You’re so fucking pretty.” </p><p>And it’s all it takes to have Villanelle lean down, slowly letting out a gasp right into her mouth. Her lips are soft, softer than anything has any right to be, and Eve aches. </p><p>They kiss like two people who have been kept apart for too long, but are familiar with the movements, the way old lovers are. It fits, perfectly, instantly and it’s just this side of desperate and it doesn’t feel like enough. Starts off with a simple press of lips until it develops, lets loose, tongue and teeth and thirst. </p><p>Eve reaches behind the woman on top of her, grabs her and pulls, wants closer, closer. A hand on her lower back, digs in with her nails, wishes to leave little crescent moons to be marveled at later. Another cupping her face, slides it down to hold her by the throat, gently. Villanelle grinds down into her leg, enthusiastic as ever, and it’s too much- too many clothes and too many barriers of skin and muscles and bone and meat. Eve wants it all gone, wants to be merged so fully she cannot tell where Eve ends and Villanelle begins. </p><p>She breaks the kiss for a second, a gasp on the other’s lips, out of breath, and pulls her own top off over her head, cannot do it fast enough. As soon as she does, though, Villanelle is on her in a fraction of a second, dropping indulgent open-mouthed kisses on her neck, all breaths and tongue and saliva. She leans further down, licks a stripe from her navel, up between her breasts, a mirror motion of the knife that once slid down her body, by her, no less, in what feels like eons ago, and Eve wants to implode, feels herself sweating, scorching. Can’t even reconcile the noise that leaves her own mouth (apparently). Jesus Christ.</p><p>Villanelle has the absolute gall to smirk at her from where she lays, chin on Eve’s breast, mouth turned to not lose contact of lips-skin, nibbles a bit on a nipple and then says, “Yeah?”</p><p>“Fuck- Yeah.” A Groan. “Yes.” </p><p>“Tell me.” Villanelle pesters, circling her tongue around it, and Eve’s rolling her eyes, more giving in to the force that’s pulling her eyelids closed than in actual annoyance. And remembers, a microwaved shepherd’s pie and eager eyes with laser focus. Pulling out praise like teeth. </p><p>
  <em>“I know you are an extraordinary person”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“What else?”</em>
</p><p>“You’re gonna have to earn that.” Eve sighs out.</p><p>Villanelle would mock-pout had she anything in her mind but the need that takes her over. To earn Eve’s appreciation. </p><p>Instead she sighs, “You are being cruel”, even while she tries to slide further down before being pulled up and receiving a kiss that tries to be chaste and ends up anything but, Eve sliding her tongue through Villanelle’s mouth. Landing somewhere between reassuring and demanding.</p><p>Villanelle continues down with a little smile, pulling off clothing on the way with shakier hands than she would ever admit to. She does this, okay, she has done this, a lot. (Maybe) Nervous and (definitely) impatient and greedy at the prospect of seeing so much skin. Eve’s skin. Helps her kick off her pants and underwear, finally, finally, and Villanelle can barely take a moment to even look, is already pressing quick open mouthed kisses from her thighs all the way to her cunt and Eve unfurls right in front of her, so wet wet and warm. Wants to drown in it.</p><p>She can’t help the moan she lets out at the taste of the first swipe of her tongue. Eve tastes fucking magnificent. She would. She does. She’s here, and Villanelle has her head between her legs and she can’t imagine wanting to be anywhere else ever again.</p><p>Eve threads her fingers through her hair, pulls a little, encouraging, and Villanelle can already feel her own flood sticking together when she rubs her thighs together. Fuck. </p><p>Ignores it as best as she can. Devotes her entire attention and existence to Eve. She gasps from above her when Villanelle licks with the tip of her tongue right on her clit, and Villanelle drags her eyes open, wants to see. </p><p>Eve is looking at her work, the hand on her hair tightening when they make eye contact. Her entire body lurches upwards when Villanelle keeps doing that, and Villanelle has to hold her hips with both hands to keep her still. Eve is moaning very loudly now. She would be smug if she wasn’t so completely entranced with this new cadence of her voice. Closes her eyes. Can’t get enough of the sounds.</p><p>“Fucking hell. You’re so good at that, baby.” Eve’s voice is at the very least a tone lower, raspy with use and exertion.</p><p>Villanelle whines into her and <em>drags</em> her short-clipped nails longingly down from where she’s holding Eve’s legs. With her right hand, continues that movement down, down, over her own body, needs to release some fucking friction or she’s going to explode, needs, needs, needs.</p><p>She barely manages to shimmy a little bit to get her hand down her own soaked underwear, when Eve pulls harder at her hair, so that her neck twists at a slightly uncomfortable angle and Villanelle gasps.</p><p>“Did I tell you you could do that?” Comes her voice, disgruntled.</p><p>“Mmmf- Sorry!” Villanelle moans at the sting and at being reprimanded and what the fuck, who did Eve turn her into. Is at the same time ecstatic and a little scared at how much she did not know how much she truly needed this, until it’s happening, it is happening and it’s not in a dream and it’s not in one of her fantasy wanks.</p><p>She marvels at how freeing it feels, to be of service to Eve, to make her feel good, to be good for her, and she thinks it’s maybe not that much of a revelation. She thinks about the way she used to kill her marks with her distinct flourish to show off- for Eve. Wanting to please her with clothes, french designers, fitting her and accentuating the very best parts of her. Giving her perfume, wanting to know and to be a part of how she went about her day. Wanting, yearning for her focus, her attention. She likes giving Eve what she likes.</p><p>“Stay there.” Eve says, in a firm, but a little delighted? voice. Yes, Villanelle is nothing less than <em>thrilled</em> at this development.</p><p>Eve had her where she wanted her, after a long time. Villanelle imagines the days and weeks obsessing and investigating, searching for clues on <em>anything.</em> All she had to do was ask, really. Villanelle would’ve come, willingly, laid down on the ground at her feet with her belly up, ears flat, tail between her legs.</p><p>So Villanelle takes the fingers that would’ve been inside herself and slides one inside of Eve instead, and she’s so wet it barely meets any resistance so she quickly inserts another and curls-</p><p>“<em>Fuck</em>… That’s it. Ah- Good girl” Eve hisses, voice pitching louder and the inside of her tightening around Villanelle’s fingers, and they both know she is right on the brink. </p><p>The words push Villanelle into a fervid pace now, hitting that one spot over and over, while she licks little stripes on Eve’s clit and she feels the woman unravel before her, underneath her, atop her, inside her mouth and with Villanelle’s fingers inside her cunt, and she wishes she could see her face properly, wants to hold her and thrust with hips not elbows, next time- She will watch Eve’s face carefully and she will categorize and catalogue every single expression to hold in her mind for as long as she lives. She will bury herself in her full, beautiful fucking hair, and her scent, bite her neck while she comes. For now, though, she settles for peeks of her expressions, over heaving tits and how she twists her head slightly to the side in pure bliss- </p><p>She fits another finger in, pushing three now, in and out, devouring. The build-up, catching up, explodes right into her face just when her jaw starts cramping deliciously, and she hears Eve give a sharp high pitched curse-shout and a <em>“Oksana!”,</em> her body trembling all over, feels her coming all over her mouth and fingers, laps it up, unable to part with the feeling of her cunt. Fucks her through her orgasm, riding the waves until Eve is pushing her head off, movements twitchy with the aftermaths, with the strength of it.</p><p>Villanelle leans on her elbows, pulls her fingers gently out of Eve, takes them slowly into her own mouth, not wanting to waste a drop of her.</p><p>Eve pulls her up, hands on her hair and cheek, tongues at her mouth, and she tastes herself on Villanelle. It tastes like sweat and musk and it’s fucking incredible. Villanelle bites at Eve’s bottom lip, dragging it down. Eve tries very hard to catch her breath.</p><p>“You said my name.”</p><p>“Oh.” Shit. It slipped Eve’s mind completely. “I did, didn’t I.” Villanelle herself only realized after Eve had come down, with an unrecognizable sort of ache in her chest.</p><p>Villanelle looks at her with a vacant kind of stare.</p><p>“Do you not want me to?”</p><p>Eve tries to plunge through her eyes, see what’s underneath them. Feels Villanelle waver, the expressionless stare more telling than it was meant to be. Is awed not for the first time how her eyes betray her, the blankness readable. </p><p>
  <em>“She had a lost look in her eye-“</em>
</p><p>“I- don’t know.” Villanelle frowns, now. Voice cracking just slightly. There it was. That new softness, a brief look into the dam waiting to break at any minute, warning of tears. Eve had seen glimpses of it before. </p><p>Villanelle looks away, at the pillow next to Eve’s head. Hates herself for having to deal with this now. If she’d just kept her fucking mouth shut-</p><p>Villanelle is not used to having a breaking point. Things like her, they bend, sure, but they don’t break. Bending, she can do. Adapting. Learning- gestures, languages, bodies. Anything that she can use. Doing what she needs to survive. In prison, in her numerous close-calls with death. Doing what she does best, with no set-backs. She does not break. She doesn’t. Then why does it feel so… severed, then? It feels like a lifetime of bending. Endless kinetic energy reaching closer and closer to a burst, until it’s all released at once, leaving her with the pieces.</p><p>“Hey. Hey, baby. What’s wrong?” Eve softens her voice, hand on her cheek, trying to get Villanelle to meet her eyes again.</p><p>When she does, it’s with a teary sort of hard eyed look that makes Eve want to kill whoever is responsible for it immediately, or just hold this woman close to her, away from harm permanently. She settles for the latter. She doesn’t know about permanence, but she knows she’d do literally anything to wipe that look, replace it with a dorky smile. Villanelle must still need this, though. Recognizes the necessity of the yielding.</p><p>Eve pulls her closer.</p><p>Villanelle finally does bury herself in her hair then, noses at her neck, inhales shakily. Feels the wetness of her eyes dampening the hot spot there, mingling with the sweat. Strong arms around her own neck and shoulders. Eve’s. The woman who put her own life through hell and back because of her, for her. Can’t hold back the sob that’s building in her throat any longer. She allows herself to sink into Eve, allows herself to cry. Eve’s here, with soft sighs, and words and touches, giving herself. Villanelle feels very wrong, when all she wants is to accept- to relinquish, to allow herself to feel right and good and true.</p><p>“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Eve.” Her voice is out of her control now, watery, and well, that’s just great isn’t it. It breaks and splinters, and the shards are all around them on the bed now, but she’s too tired, too tired to care. “I’m sorry” She lets out another time. </p><p>Eve shushes her gently, strokes her hair. “It’s okay.”</p><p>“No, Eve. I’m sorry for ever hurting you. I really am.” She means it, too, deeply, with her whole sodding heart. Sorry for Bill, for making her life a mess, for enjoying it so much.</p><p>“Listen to me. You didn’t do anything I didn’t have coming when I started it all.”</p><p>“No, I was the one that-”</p><p>“Listen. <em>I</em> started it all. <em>I</em> chased you. I am just as responsible for everything as you are.” Eve takes a deep breath before continuing. “And I’m not sorry.”</p><p>Eve herself is teetering towards the edge of tears now, but she needs Villanelle to understand, that she’s more than that, she’s not to blame for all this. It’s too big a cross to bear, too heavy on her own. “I stand by what I said, you know. You <em>are</em> so many things, so much more than what people have made you to be.” Eve insisted. Voice still clear, strong, reassuring. Holding herself down for her.</p><p>The sobs wrack Villanelle’s body now, shaking her shoulders violently with it. Eve lets her let it all out, holds her through it, little whispers of <em>Shhhh,</em> and <em>It’s okay</em> periodically.</p><p>Minutes could’ve passed, half-an-hour, two hours, a whole day- Time doesn’t exist in the bed right now, though. Only Eve’s arms around her, the soft brushing of her hands on her head, down her neck. The smell of sweat and come and hotel soap along with her own unique scent, <em>Eve Eve Eve,</em> and after a while, she calms down a little, with a sniffle now and again. Both of their arms are still tight around each other.</p><p>Maybe breaking isn’t so bad, if it’s in front of Eve. It doesn’t feel like weakness. Or it does, but in a bearable way- a thing they can share. Maybe it’s okay. To let go of the pressure, not feeling the stretch of the bend. She almost lets herself feel truly right, but then- Villanelle freezes in her tracks. She needs to tell Eve. She needs to tell Eve. Even if it meant-</p><p>Villanelle gives a stuttered sigh into her neck, “I went to Gryzmet. To see my family.” Eve falters on her caress for a split second. “My mother, she… she was the same. Mean. Manipulative. Hurtful. She was hurting my little brother.” The coldness of her tone clashes with Eve’s warmth. Her accent sounds thicker than Eve had ever heard. “The people there- She had them all fooled. They didn’t know her like I did. That she was like me. That she hurts people.”</p><p>Eve waits for her to continue, listening intently, continuing her ministrations on her hair. “She said I ruined them, that she had to send me away. That I brought darkness into where I went. It made me so” She takes a shaky breath, then, “So bitter. That she wouldn’t admit these things about herself. So I snapped her neck. Sent Bor’ka into the barn, burnt their house down.” She finishes, her voice empty. Wonders how long until the soft words fade, the touch goes. How long until she’s pushed away, denied what she knows she shouldn’t have. Maybe now Eve will <em>understand,</em> how she is not meant for gentleness. She is meant for loneliness. A small price to pay on the face of all the evil she’s done. Tick, tock.</p><p>Eve stays perfectly still, minus the caress on Villanelle’s hair.</p><p>“I’m a monster, Eve. I don’t deserve what you’re giving me. I don’t deserve you.” Villanelle sounds frustrated to her own ears.</p><p>
  <em>“No.”</em>
</p><p>“Eve-“</p><p>“No.” Eve repeats. Villanelle huffs a little at this, pulls back from Eve’s neck to look at her as she continues.</p><p>“I’m really sorry, but I’m exactly what you deserve. You made me feel more than I ever thought I was capable of feeling. You brought <em>light</em> back into my life. You gave me a purpose. I <em>love</em> you. And I will not hear you talk about yourself like that again, understood?” </p><p>There were twin streaks of tears down Villanelle’s redden face now, her nose puffed out from sniffling. She looks at her, with glassy eyes and a dazed gaze.</p><p>“You’re brilliant.” Eve drops a kiss, by her hairline. Lingers a bit, before continuing her movements, the distance between lips and skin almost non-existent. Another kiss, now to her temple. “Radiant. Brighter than anyone I have ever seen.” Eve whispers. Villanelle closes her eyes at the tenderness. A final kiss, on the lips now, sweetly and shortly.</p><p>Villanelle frowns a little, after they break the kiss, her eyes still shut tight.</p><p>Eve gives her another kiss on the lines in between her brows, lets them relax underneath her lips. And Villanelle is left speechless. Doesn’t know if she should fight more on it. She trusts Eve, though, with her whole entire heart. It doesn’t erase the inadequacy, rather, it alleviates it, leaving her a little dazed, and feeling so lucky.</p><p>“Are you planning on stabbing me or something? Usually something like that happens by now.” Villanelle manages, thanks the gods for her voice not shaking, her tone landing in playful confusion instead.</p><p>Eve kisses her again, shutting her up, before flipping them both over, rather impressively, impulsively, taking them both by surprise, changing the tone of the room. She leans over Villanelle now, leaving the other woman’s mouth to suck lightly into her pulse point instead. </p><p>“You are quick” She actually <em>giggles</em> out, the hormones of the aftermath of a good cry taking effect, ending with a shaky sort of sigh and Eve is going to die, lets her lips leave the other woman's neck with an obscene pop for a second before digging in again with her teeth, slowly, canines against soft yielding flesh. The moan she receives in response quickly heating them both up, heating the space between them, around them. Burning Eve’s skin.</p><p>Villanelle's hands find Eve’s hair of their own accord, wants to grip and pull and caress, but in a second, before she can even touch it properly, her hands are pinned against the mattress underneath her.</p><p>“If you still don't believe me in saying it, I can just show you” Eve whispers against the shell of her ear.</p><p>Villanelle exhales, giving an airy sort of nod. “Please. Eve.”</p><p>Eve snorts softly, and her face is still so <em>close,</em> the warmth of it palpable against Villanelle's own, her black, soft hair brushing against Villanelle's cheek at every movement, lips brushing against her ear, behind it, until there's a wet tongue rushing up the arch of it and Villanelle <em>shivers.</em> Strains a little against the hands holding her down. It feels so fucking right. She could flip them in a second if she wanted to. As if.</p><p>“I love it when you get responsive with me, baby.” Eve says, keeps her hands on the other woman’s wrists while she pulls back with a trail of kisses down towards her breasts. The effect she’s having so clear, chest rapidly moving with uneven breaths. “So good for me” Eve swipes her tongue at a nipple, biting it, a little on the edge of gentle and rough.</p><p>“Ah- <em>Fuck,</em> Eve, I need you to-” Villanelle is dangerously close to begging now, she realizes distantly. Jumps at the opportunity to just be with this woman, fully out. This woman who turned her entire world directly on its head. Making her want to believe in silly, stupid things like fate and God, and <em>forgiveness, redemption</em> and a higher plan, of all things- although God’s got absolutely nothing on the way Eve’s mouth works around her breasts, the soft mutterings of sweet things against her flesh, sweet, saccharine, sin. </p><p>Eve drops her wrists, leans back with a truly devilish smirk contorting her beautiful fucking features, eyes lidded and Villanelle’s never thought her more magnificent than at that moment. Wants to say it, wants to say it now, is still being pulled back by fear, by how Eve reacted the last time. The words burn on the tip of her tongue, fill her mouth, almost making her choke with them. She misses the strain against her wrists. Then, Eve says,</p><p>“Touch yourself, sweetheart. I want to see you.” </p><p>And words stop existing.</p><p>Villanelle bites her lip, hard. Thinks she might genuinely start crying again, the period too short, the weight too heavy to strip the flow of tears from her completely. Fuck’s sake.</p><p>“No, please, I want <em>you</em> to touch me“</p><p>“Shhh… I will, baby. I will.” Eve cradles her face as she says it, and yeah, Villanelle’s definitely crying again. Shit, fuck, в пизду. She catches a tear with a thumb, stroking her cheek. Villanelle leans into it.</p><p>“Do you think you can be good for me and touch yourself, darling?”</p><p>Villanelle whimpers. Nods a little. Eve kisses her, on the lips, sweetly, gently, reassuring.</p><p>“I just want you to feel good, okay? Show me how you make yourself feel good.”</p><p>Villanelle takes Eve’s hands that are on her, kisses her fingers reverently. </p><p>“Okay.”</p><p>Eve gets off of her to lay beside Villanelle’s left side instead, letting her right hand be on the other woman’s grasp still, stroking softly, before moving it down to grasp at a breast, her nipple between two fingers again. Noses at her neck, the little red welts she sucked into it already starting to bruise slightly. Drops little kisses to them, soothing them with her tongue. Wants her to feel as comfortable and as loved as humanly possible. Curls her leg around Villanelle’s, an invitation into herself.</p><p>Villanelle groans, brings her right hand to her cunt, opening herself up with two fingers. She is so <em>ridiculously</em> wet, the pulse of it strong against her hand, and she’s almost glad Eve didn’t touch her first, she’d be so smug. Her back arches a little when she reaches her clit, gives it little practiced circles, lazily. The wet noises the contact makes still gets Eve’s attention, though, who whispers a <em>“So wet for me”</em> approvingly right next to her ear. Fucking hell.</p><p>Her fingers drop from their position at her clit to press against her entrance, two quickly becoming three. She moans at the sensation. Villanelle finds herself in the mind-space she normally is when her fingers are buried inside her cunt- she wishes they were Eve’s. Thinks about her body, the way she sounded when she came. Soft touches, and looks and words. Her face when she tells Villanelle she’s been good, her strong thighs around Villanelle’s hands, her gasps and her moans and-</p><p>“Slow down, baby.” </p><p>Villanelle barely realized the force at which her thrusts were going before, but she definitely does now, an invisible hand forcing them to go slow. It’s a dragging pace, and she wants to explode with how it’s not enough it’s not enough it’s not enough, so she fits another finger inside. Feels the stretch tighten, almost painfully <em>(good),</em> then, moans loudly at it.</p><p>“That’s it. Good girl.” Eve croons, and she’s so fucking close already. Can’t quite get off at the pace in which Eve holds her, though. With words only, no less. Villanelle feels bound to this woman, desperately fucking needs her like she needs to breathe. Feels most like tearing her own skin off, truly, when she is wanting, almost getting. She wants to fall and fall, but Eve’s words hold her, on the edge of the precipice, looking down. It’s a feeling she’s somewhat used to since first meeting Eve, but oh, how it’s being turned all the way up to the intense, to the extreme, like this. All Villanelle wants is to let herself drop, to hit the ground fiercely.</p><p>“Mmm- Eve, please. I need-“ Villanelle whimpers, turns her head to press her forehead against Eve’s. Hopes her body conveys enough.  </p><p>“What do you need, darling?”</p><p>“I need to <em>-Fuck.</em> I need to come.” </p><p>Villanelle tries meeting Eve’s eyes, can’t quite get it with how close they are, puts her left hand on Eve’s cheek, mashing their heads, merging them. Needs to communicate how she feels if it means Eve will take some fucking pity on her.</p><p>“How many do you have in you?” Eve requests, kissing the corner of her mouth, and Villanelle asks herself desperately if Eve knows already, if she’s just fucking with her, if it’s part of some game, but she doesn’t care right now so she just moans out,</p><p>“Four.”</p><p>“Take one out.”</p><p>“What- No, fuck-“ Villanelle starts but Eve cuts her off with a kiss to her lips, the contrast of how sweet it feels clashing violently with Villanelle’s frustration. She obeys, sliding her pinky finger out of her cunt, and it immediately leaves her feeling empty as if there was barely any relief to her movements. Her head aches from the dehydration that comes with a long cry, and she already feels her eyes burning again with brimming tears, and fuck it, if Eve wants her to beg, she will fucking <em>beg.</em></p><p>“<em>Please,</em> Eve, please let me come. I need you, I need you so fucking bad, <em>please</em>” </p><p>Eve moves then, collides her mouth with Villanelle’s, properly. Her face is probably a mess, wet and red and desperate. Their teeth clash with the force of the kiss and it’s all a fucking lot, and Eve’s already moving away, taking Villanelle’s hand from between her thighs and pulling, insistent, lets it rest in the mattress next to her hip. She slides down further, takes both of Villanelle’s thighs on her hands and holds her open, puts her mouth to the mess of drenched, pink, soft skin immediately.</p><p>Villanelle gives an almost-shriek at how sudden and <em>too much</em> it is after so much <em>not enough</em> and she buries her hands in Eve’s hair, hips thrashing out of her control. </p><p>Three fingers make their way inside of Villanelle, curling, fucking into her roughly, and Eve pulls away from her clit for a second to say, “You’ve been <em>so good baby,</em> come for me” And licks a stripe up from her own fingers upwards and Villanelle feels her grasp in reality violently sweep from underneath her feet, her body growing scalding fucking hot, and she shatters.</p><p>She comes harder than ever, her moans filling up the room, and Eve fucks her through it, fingers and tongue as she rides the waves of the best high of her life. Doesn’t even notice how she’s panting and gasping, her head pressing hard into the pillow. Has never felt so much like herself while in the throes of another, blissful, <em>delirious.</em> Feels the vibrations of Eve’s pained moans from the death-grip she has in her hair, registers dimly a few words, <em>“I’m so proud of you”</em> and <em>“Good girl, keep coming for me”</em> She loses track of time or how much of it she spends just coming again, and again, thinks she actually blacks out for a few seconds.</p><p>When Villanelle finally rouses from her state, she feels wetness- sweat, under her back and thighs at the mattress. Come, saliva, under her crotch and down her legs. Tears, staining her face. All mixing together, everywhere. </p><p>Eve’s looking at her, straddling her hips.</p><p>“I love you.” Villanelle finally blurts, and with it, it feels like the entire world gets off her shoulders and all she feels, all she’ll ever feel is just bliss, in honesty, in acknowledgement, in passion, in love.</p><p>Eve’s face is drenched and Villanelle feels it when they kiss- tastes all of it, the sweat, the come, the blood, the affection and the need. Eve smiles into it. They savor the sweetness.</p><p>“I love you too.” Eve tells her when they pull back, out of breath.</p><p>Villanelle feels her cheeks hurt from how wide she smiles. They just stare at each other for a moment. She controls her expression a bit, then </p><p>“Isn’t that crazy? I love you, even if you get off on literally torturing me in bed” She wants to make a face of mock-contemplation, to complete it with fingers under her chin, but is just too worn out. Eve’s pulled her theatrics out of her with fingers and tongue, and she’s exhausted. She barely manages a wink.</p><p>Eve laughs out loud at this display, the sound of it warming Villanelle’s insides even further.</p><p>“Oh it’s like that. Then I guess I just won’t do it anymore, if you don’t like it…” </p><p>“I like it.” Villanelle says, a little too quickly, still smiling maniacally. Eve just chuckles, drops her face into Villanelle’s collar, drained.</p><p>Villanelle’s hands wrap around her body, relishing the closeness. The bed is a fucking mess, but she can’t imagine caring less. Tomorrow they’ll deal with the messes. The bed, the Twelve, whatever the fuck the universe decides to throw at them. But right now, Eve breathes deeply, in and out, and Villanelle gives a contented sigh, syncs up their breaths. They are the same.</p><p>It isn’t long until they’re both asleep, the light of day almost reaching them.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>endless countless thanks to my best friend and sort of unwilling beta-reader @ysogrim. i love you baby. thanks for helping me out. </p><p>i love comments!!!! let me know what you think. im at tumblr also @paganpoetr though it's only half a killing eve blog. come shout at me regardless.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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